A Family Tradition
by The Third Biker Scholar
Summary: This whole 'saving the world' thing? Well, apparently it runs in the family... [Human Fem!Mage Amell, Rogue Fem!Hawke, Human Fem!Rogue Inquisitor]
1. Chapter 1

My family and I, huge fans of the game, were playing the new game this week. I noticed that your Warden, if a human mage, was an Amell. Hey, isn't that Hawke's mother's family name? Why yes, yes it is. And didn't Prince Sebastion of Starkhaven mention that most of the nobility of the Free Marches is related? ...*grins* So we figured, what if this hero stuff was just...

* * *

A Family Tradition

The warmth of the tavern's roaring hearth eased the perpetual chill of Haven's winter from Varric Tethras's bones. Ancestors, but he was getting too old to be running around on adventures again. Well, its not like he ever really stopped running, but the point still stood. He'd run from one utter madhouse, that at least had the sole advantage of being home, to another utter madhouse that was a powder keg just waiting to explode.

Such was Tethras luck of late.

The lovely brunette bard of Haven's only bar was strumming her lyre as she sang one of many songs from all over Thedas. Damned if their dear "Herald" hadn't kept her word and brought copies of any song she could find for their local entertainment to play. Hmph, she was really starting to remind Varric of his friend Hawke. Even more so than usual, too.

There were some odd similarities between the Champion of Kirkwall and the Inquisitor-slash-Herald of Andraste.

Sera came in a few moments later. The blond elf smiled slyly as she saw at least a half dozen new recruits at the tables that she could easily bilk out of a few coins for a 'simple' round of Wicked Grace. But on spying her fellow rouge, she sauntered over to sit beside the blonde dwarf. "Well hello, hello, Varric. Got any new stories to tell a bored, pretty girl like me?"

Varric found himself humoring the smirking elf. "Something in particular you want to hear about? Because storytelling is thirsty work, you know."

She laughed and signaled the bartender. As the wench was bringing the drinks over, she leaned in closer to him. "I heard you was close friends with another one of those big movers and world shakers, that Champion fella. What was he like?"

"He?" Varric chuckled. "I guess that story got further around than I thought. Sera, I spread all kinds of descriptions of Hawke all over. Not one of them is the real deal. But I could tell you what she really looked like."

"She?" Sera blinked in surprise. "I always heard it was some mage boy that blew up the Quinari."

"Nah. Amalthea Hawke, and yes, that is her real name, the poor girl. Her sister, Bethany, always said that their mother was drunk off painkillers when she was born, and thus slurred out what was supposed to be a simple 'Amelia'. But the midwife just wrote down what she heard, and thus Hawke was stuck with one of the more ridiculous names I've ever heard.

"Oh, but Hawke, as she prefered to be called, was a lady of fine tastes and faster blades," Varric said, falling into his favorite role of part-time bard. "She was a rogue of rare talent. I once saw her pick nine locks on a dwarven merchant's chest of jewels so fast that I blinked and missed half the job. Nearly charmed the pants off of that Fereldan king, what's his name, Alistair, when he came to Kirkwall. Even the legendary Zeveran, famed killer of Crow Masters and deadliest assassin in three countries, bowed to her charisma and knifework."

"Really?" Sera breathed in anticipation. "I bet she bled everyone she met dry of gold too."

"Oh, she was quite the hustler when she wanted to be," the dwarf nodded. "Went into all kinds of business investments with me. Owns a publishing company in Orlais by now, if I remember right. A lucrative, if somewhat more deadly than usual, mine in Kirkwall, several shares in mining, shipping, and smuggling ran out of Rivain. All courtesy of Captain Isabella of the Siren's Call II, one of her many companions." He sighed quietly. "I'm still impressed that Hawke kept her around after all the hassle that went down."

"Really?" asked a soft voice from behind the two rogues, making both jump in their seats and grab for hidden daggers. Leliana giggled as she moved from the shadows to sit opposite of Varric. "Sorry to have startled you. But I would have thought you would be quite used to the Champion's attitude of saving people. I heard that she was often a prime source of diplomacy and stability in the city."

"True, Hawke never could bear to see innocent people suffer," Varric said wistfully. "I really do have no doubt that wherever she is now, she's out helping someone."

"Varric here was just going to tell me what she really looked like," reminded Sera, nudging his side. "You still haven't said. Was she that ugly? All scarred up and stuff from fighting?"

"Ugly?! Maker, no! Hawke was a fine figure of a woman. Granted, a little too long in the leg for my tastes, but she certainly was not ugly. She looked..." Varric paused a moment, clearly remembering better times. "Marion was a human of refined bones, looking so delicate and small that a stiff wind would surely knock her down. But once she began to dance with her daggers, oh, though she be little, she be _fierce_," the dwarf breathed. "Power and mercy and death, all in one package. Fiery red hair, eyes as blue as the glaciers of the Northern Sea. She had a way of looking at you like she could see down to your very soul. Not many men, or women, even, seemed to pass her test of worthiness," Varric said.

"I remember her as a compassionate woman, always looking for ways to seek peace," Leliana said fondly. "Hmm. Perhaps I was biased. She did look so much like the Warden."

"She did?!" Sera and Varric asked in surprise. Varric leaned closer to the Master Spy. "I didn't know that; I've never met the Warden, but I've heard stories of course. A legendary beauty, they say, born and raised in the Circle of Ferelden."

Leliana laughed. "Oh, she certainly was beautiful. Hair as red as fiery embers, with soulful green eyes that seemed to pull you in. She was stunning when her magic would swirl around her, fire and ice and lightning dancing in the air at her will. Even Morrigan always said that her talent with elemental magic was something to see.

"Ah, but she was not born in the Circle! No, she was born in the Free Marches, in Kirkwall, actually."

Varric found himself completely taken in by Leliana's storytelling. "The Hero of Ferelden is a Marcher?"

"One and the same! Her mother was a lady of high nobility, and when the lady was found with three children, all of whom had magic, they were taken from her, and each sent to a different Circle throughout the world. The records of their family line were destroyed, as is custom for those that come from the upper class. But First Enchanter Irving tracked them down for her. Dear Threnodies, that's the Warden's actual name, yes," Leliana couldn't help her giggle as the two rogues exchanged looks of pity for the poor woman, "oh, she was so distraught to not be able to track down her lost brother and sister. I have actually kept an eye out for them, but with all this going on," she shrugged, "it is now more unlikely than ever that she will be reunited with her kin."

Varric frowned. "Wait a minute, Hawke told me that her mother had a cousin, Revka Amell, that had magical children. That they were all taken to the Circle-"

"Yes, indeed," the bard nodded, smiling. "Lady Amalthea Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall, and Threnodies Amell, the Hero of Fereldan, are cousins. With such a family of fighters, oh! Imagine if all three siblings had fought the Blight! And I understand that Bethany Hawke is certainly no slouch in fighting with magic too."

"No kidding," murmured Varric. "Sunshine could pack quite a wallop."

"Ah, what a shame what happened to the Amell family," Leliana said.

"The Amells? Do you mean my cousins?"

All three rogues turned to the doorway, where a shocked Cassandra stood next to a curious Inquisitor. Calliopie Trevalyan scanned over the room, blue eyes twinkling in merriment as she looked over her 'rogue's gallery' as she called them.

"How long have you been standing there?" Varric asked.

"Long enough to hear talk about my cousins in Kirkwall," the rogue Herald said.

Cassandra slowly turned and asked in a slow, questioning voice. "Your ...cousins?"

"Well, yes," the young rogue replied, brushing her red hair out of her face. "Most of the nobility in the Free Marshes is related, however distantly. We even married into the Starkhaven royal family quite some time ago. But the Amells, my grandfather married a Marion Amell, from Kirkwall. I believe she was the aunt of Leandra Amell. Might have been Revka Amell's sister, I'm not sure. I 'd have to check the family tapestry for that, but I do know that they were closely related. I didn't know any of my cousins from Kirkwall were still alive," she said happily.

Most of the room was completely speechless.

It was Sera who summed it up. "So you mean to tell me that all the biggest big-wig hero people of the last 20 years were all related? The Warden and the Champion and even the Herald? All family? One big, demon-killing, darkspawn-scourging, politician's nightmare of a family?"

"Ah, well...yes?" said the Inquisitor.

Varric snorted, then chuckled, then burst out into honest guffaws of laughter. It took a few minutes for him to calm down long enough to share the joke. "You-... you mean all those Maker-forsaken awful names are a family tradition?"

* * *

Lol. Revka Amell is a canon character per the DAO and DA2 codex, and you can look up Hawke and the human mage Warden's family history on the Dragon Age Wiki. It clearly states there that they are related. Please review!


	2. I'm related to who?

Wow, guys! Lol, didn't expect such a reaction from everyone, but I'm sure glad you did! I love the idea of the heroes of Thedas being one big family, but check this out. If you're a male Trevelyan, and you romance that charming Dorian, he reveals a little something. (Not that, you perverts! Lol.)

A Family Tradition

Chapter 2: I'm related to who?!

_Three months after the loss of Haven_

Skyhold was really taking shape as a defensible stronghold. The debris was nearly gone from the courtyard, the great hall was much cleaner (and a great deal more impressive), and several upgrades and additions had been made already. The gardens were beginning to show new growth, a mage tower was being built for the Mage Alliance's people, and a healers' training camp/courtyard was flourishing.

Dorian leaned back from his seat at the bar, the Herald's Rest, taking in the much improved morale of the people. Not only had the Inquisition survived Coypheus' attack, they had come back stronger and more influential than before! Not bad for a ragtag group of Chantry cast-offs. The tavern was warm with a roaring fire in the hearth, well lit and surprisingly clean. Dozens of people were gathered around the bard, listening to her sweet, low voice sing songs of heroes and now of their beloved Inquisitor.

The Tevinter mage grimaced before drinking down the wine he'd been served. It certainly wasn't the worst beverage he'd been served since leaving his home country, but it was definitely not up to his well-educated palate's standards. Oh well, one couldn't have everything, he supposed. A pleasant warmth of the alcohol spread through him, not enough to be drunk, but just lightly 'buzzed', as they say in the South. He glanced over at the loud singing coming from Bull's Chargers, the mercenaries laughing and boasting of their many battles. He thought they were an oddly decent sort, for what was basically being a thug for hire. Then again, Iron Bull was a shockingly decent Quinari, so maybe it just rubbed off on them?

A slight chill on the back of his neck made him turn around, to see Leliana with her hand outstretched to touch his shoulder. A chagrined look spread on her fair face as he chuckled. "Spotted you this time, lady raven," Dorian said with a smile.

"Truly, you must tell me how you do that," the former bard said with a rueful smirk. Her hood was pulled down for once, with the candlelight showing off the deep red highlights in her hair.

"My dear lady, a man must have a few secrets; it keeps the lads interested, you know," he winked, leaning back in his chair.

She laughed, a brighter sound than he'd heard her make in some time. "Indeed, and quite a few ladies too! You should still tell me though," she leaned in, her soft voice and smile hiding a hint of steel. "Its for the sake of my ravens." The woman suddenly smiled with genuine warmth. "Ah! But speaking of interesting things, I have heard of something of great interest to you. Would you care to join me in Sera's loft? I know that scamp has been dying to inform you of this ever since she found out."

Dorian blinked in surprise as he rose from his seat, tossing a few coins on the bar. "Sera? Blonde girl, untidy, looks like she's never heard of scissors before in her life? Hates mages?"

"Come now, my friend, she does not hate mages," Leliana smiled, ushering him toward the stairs. "I suspect she has run afoul of a few of the less pleasant kind in her lifetime. Or perhaps she's just uncomfortable around people that can make fire when they wiggle their fingers."

"It takes more than that to do magic!" Dorian protested. He smirked. "It takes at least half your arm."

Leliana chuckled softly as they rounded the corner to Sera's loft. They could hear the sounds of Varric and Sera talking, apparently arguing good-naturedly over a card game. Both rogues looked up as Leliana knocked on the open door, pulling off her gloves as she came further into the room. "Hello, friends. Care to deal us in?"

"I'm always up for a game," the mage said, carefully sitting down on one of the room's many pillows. One always had to be careful stepping or sitting anywhere in Sera's room, as there tended to be arrows scattered about in the oddest places. Blackwall still claimed that his rear would never be the same after his last visit...

"Just no funny finger business, right Sparky?" Sera said with a grin, settling down across from the mage as Varric dealt the cards. They passed two hands in easy chit-chat and gossip, especially about the romantic looks between their dear Inquisitor and Cullen. Dorian's patience was rewarded when Sera finally burst out, "Well piss, don't you wanna know what we all know that you know?"

Dorian cocked an eyebrow in confusion over his hand of cards. "Come again?"

Sera rolled her eyes. "About the movers and shakers, that we know what you know about what she knows! Daft twit."

Dorian sent a bewildered look to Varric and Leliana. "Is she speaking Common? Or do we need to find a translator for 'North Wherever'?"*

"You're related! To the big wiggies that make everything go topsy-turvy! Figured you'd be swanning about, crowing on your shiny family tree," Sera said in annoyance. "Stupid Vint."

Varric sighed in exasperation, dealing a new hand of cards. "Our esteemed colleague is trying to tell you that we just found out that you're distantly related to the Inquisitor."

"Oh, that? Old news, I'm afraid, and a very old relation," Dorian confirmed, discarding two cards. "Must be about seven, or maybe eight generations back for the Trevelyans."

"Hmm," Varric murmured, arranging his cards in his hand. "Don't suppose you were related to the Hawkes?"

Now that got Dorian's attention. "The Hawkes? From Emerius? Sorry, that's how they teach it to us in Tevinter, its Kirkwall, yes?"

"That's right," the dwarf nodded.

"Not that I'm aware of, no. Now my family does share some relations in Kirkwall, though my mother does not like to admit it. My maternal grandmother, she was related to the direct line of the Amells from the nobility of Kirkwall." Dorian said, a bit puzzled about what all this was leading to. From the look of surprise on Varric's face, this had to be something important. "So, we're talking about my family's illustrious relations because...?"

"The Trevelyans are third cousins to the Amells of Kirkwall," Leliana said smugly.

Sera snorted. "Yeah, and that ain't the only Amell they're related to, innit?"

The mage blinked, thinking on why that would be important, when it suddenly hit him. "Wait. As in, the lady Hero of Fereldan? _Those _Amells?!"

"Which makes you related to the Hero-Queen of Fereldan," Leliana grinned with mischief.

"And she's the second cousin of Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall," Varric said with a smile. "Her mother was Leandra Amell."

Dorian felt his jaw drop a bit as he understood. "They're related? All of them are related?!"

"To you too. Apparently. Sodding weird, it is," Sera grumbled, folding her hand of cards. "Like something said to someone, 'and they shall all be one big pain in the butt for everyone else'!"

Dorian was too busy thinking over what his new found relations meant to respond, but Varric and Leliana were exchanging looks. It couldn't be a coincidence. One family line producing so many powerful heroes? And, to Leliana's great interest, all of them female. Didn't the Chantry believe that the bloodline of Andraste could only be passed down through daughters? After all, that family line was lost to history's knowledge after the Second Blight. The Amells may very well be descendants of the line.

Perhaps the Maker really was looking out for them after all.

* * *

*North Wherever is a joke, since Sera doesn't like to talk about where she's from. She says 'north', and your character gets to make the joke that they're from 'North Wherever' too.

Also, the stuff about the bloodline of Andraste is real, taken from the Dragon Age Wiki.


End file.
